“Women are mocked,” she said. “You will be so late. ’ The lashes fluttered demurely. "Now stand before me, Poll. The blue jowl, the fat-lidded eyes—now merry, now alert, now tungsten hard—the bullet head, the pudgy fingers and the square-toed shoes were all in conformation with the doctor's olden mental picture. To even presume a lustful thought about her was to ask for one’s own death. But no matter how you phrase it, the end is the same. He'll be brought out at this door, and may probably make some resistance.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDMuMTQzLjI0NC4xMjMgLSAxMC0wNi0yMDI0IDA2OjUwOjI0IC0gNjYxNzY3MTA1
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